Remembering Teacher Korir

Remembering Teacher Korir

“Korir’s death would have been avoided if a mganga had been called to unlock his manhood in time. His bladder was swollen; his abdomen painful and the members ballooned. That was never to be. He was gone.

BY MUSYOKA NGUI

On September 26 2011 I reported to Chuka University College. I was a freshman. Three or so days later, I received a devastating call from Madam Arogo, a former workmate.

It was on a chilly morning. I had just stepped out of the Science Complex which was noisy due to construction going on in upper floors. I walked to the notice board to see whether they posted any new news.

“Morning Ngui, Korir is dead”, said Arogo over the phone. The brief delivery of bad news left me shaken. I got cold.

I’d known Korir personally and professionally. He struggled with alcohol. He was always in debt. In fact, he died with many debts including mine. I could not say no to his sweet tongue. I bought him alcohol yet I never took any myself.

Korir had a particular charm for ladies. He juggled relationships. I do not recall the exact number of his girlfriends. He had one in Tseikuru, another in Kyuso, and another in Mivukoni, another elsewhere. Perhaps he was a polygamist. How he had never lived to see President Kenyatta sign the Marriage Act.

Soon after we left-the four form four leavers who took up teaching after graduating-both Kabwere and Jerry went to Kenya Poly. Kabwere took up Journalism and Jerry Urban Planning. I went to Chuka for Communication and Media. Then there was Dorcus Mwende who went to Kenyatta University to read for Special Education.

Korir had ‘lost’ four friends who went back to school. He was left only with the demoralized, underpaid and overworked TSC teachers. Us the BOG guys had life. We had money and spent. We were free. We travelled. We bought clothes and shoes. Korir was embedded in our entourage. He never lacked beer after class.

The KCSE was about to happen and as always the KNEC sent invigilators and supervisors to preside over the life and death duel.

Incidentally, Korir fell head over heels for the supervisor. The supervisor was loose. Korir was available. Little did he know that the supervisor was ‘locked’ by his military husband who perennially away in barracks.  Korir did not waste words. He got her boxed. Unfortunately, the husband of the supervisor had secured his territory. Korir did not exactly get stuck. He was able to enjoy the goodies while they lasted. Problem is when he was done. His manhood started to swell. He was embarrassed to tell anyone. Only his girlfriend knew the situation was deteriorating. She washed him, clothed him and nursed him just to see whether he will improve.

Mr. Kinyua delivered the sad story to the principal, Mrs. Syanda. It was too late. Korir was rushed to Kyuso by an ambulance. The nurses there did not touch him. They said his case was advanced so he be transferred to Mwingi. On arrival he was pronounced dead.

Korir’s death would have been avoided if a mganga had been called to unlock his manhood in time. His bladder was swollen; his abdomen painful and the members ballooned. That was never to be. He was gone.

What saddens me is that he went rather unannounced. The young Computer Studies teacher had a lot of promise ahead. He was set to travel to the United Kingdom for an exchange program with the British Council. Actually, he had befriended a White teacher who came over during our stint there. She had left money and gifts to him. It is not for me to question whether it was love or convenience or worse gold mining but truth remains that Korir’s best days lay ahead. He would have married the White. He would have taught Computer Science better given the revamping of the computer lab soon before his demise. The students loved him and the subject.

Korir was sporty. He was the Games Master. Every evening he would take the students to the pitch to play. They exercised. He took them to tournaments. They won, drew and lost. It was life. He gave his all. On Sundays he would go to Catholic Church. He indulged in the Mass.

But Korir ran into trouble too early. He was not lucky. I mean, he would have lasted longer. Critics claimed there were other badder boys like Jerry who still reigned supreme. Jerry was a serial star womanizer. He never hid it. In fact, he displayed it. One Saturday night the police raided his apartment and recovered a school girl he was romping with. He was arrested, kicked, shaved and locked up. His brother in law, Twalas, freed him just before his date with the magistrate. Twalas bribed the police and bought Jerry’s freedom. I guess Korir envied Jerry’s luck.

A few months before leaving Mivukoni, my landlord’s son committed suicide by taking rat poison and cited his mother who is a police officer for being high handed on him.  That did not surprise anyone because we saw it coming. But Korir, no. you get afraid when someone you know and love disappears permanently.

One rather wild allegation that I would clear Korir any day is the false claim that he died of AIDs. It was witchcraft and everybody around him knew it but buried their head in sand.

Korir was the only guy who displayed affection like a badge. When his girlfriend bought him a rose on Valentine, he brought it to the office and lit the red neon lights on the table-in broad daylight –never mind the difference was the same due to competition from natural light.

On the day of his burial, the creditors unashamedly asked to be paid back. They even denied his relatives the right to take the child he had sired with the girlfriend. May be it was because he was not one of them. He was a Kalenjin and they were Kambas. With the entrenchment of tribalism in Kenya, being the other makes you a subject of hate and isolation-even in death.

Next October will be your third anniversary since you left us. We have learned from you. You taught us to live and love. To give our all and never hold back our feelings to someone we love.

True, boy, you had your shortcomings. But that is beside the point. Keep smiling down at us from heaven. Watch over us. We will miss you. We will never forget. We have accepted and move on. Rest in Peace brother!

The writer is a student of Bachelors of Arts Degree in Communication and Media at Chuka University. He blogs at musyokangui.blogspot.com and is an intern at Kenya News Agency Kitui Bureau

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